Twas Mimsy
by TheBlueFoxtrot A Samba
Summary: Cheshire's been assigned some new targets. For the son's mercy and the father's delicious agony, the boy will die first. At least that's what the plan was supposed to be. Response to the Scent Challenge and the Lyrics Challenge
1. Good Morning Birdy

**Title: **I Thought I Saw a Cheshire Cat

**Author: **Blue & Kazoo a.k.a Creativity  
><strong>Pairing(s): <strong>Robin/Cheshire, but my gosh not like that!  
><strong>Summary: <strong>Cheshire's been assigned some new targets. For the son's mercy and the father's delicious agony, the boy will die first. At least that's what the plan was supposed to be.

I certainly own nothing.

**Prompt: **The smell of coconuts (which according to google have no smell, but we'll make it a chemically altered lotion or something), and hallucinations according to the Scent Challenge by ChuChuMarshmallow; and for the Song Lyric challenge also by ChuChu, _Cooler than Me _by Mike Posner.

* * *

><p>It'd been a long night. Once again, someone had allowed the Scarecrow a little too much freedom while in Arkham Asylum. Naturally, he abused this liberty by creeping around Poison Ivy's mutated plants and using them to develop a new mind altering drug.<p>

Because the _last _mind alternating drug that made people think their brains were on fire was just so five minutes ago.

After he and Batman had trailed the psycho the_rapist _to his new hideout, – a warehouse with leaky pipes. How original – they'd had to take down some mind-controlled innocent hostages without hurting them.

One of them had been someone's grandmother with a walker who he could barely touch for fear of breaking her hip or something. He couldn't net her because she might struggle and hurt herself and gas pellets would probably kill her too.

He'd had to fight around the old woman as she kept trying to beat him with this purse he swore she carried bricks in. He thought bricks because his bruises were suspiciously squared.

After way longer than he would have liked, he got to Scarecrow. The take-down had been easy, anti-climatic even. Yet there'd been no little satisfaction when his fist got up close and personal with Scarecrow's nose.

It may or may not have broken.

In his defense, Crane had completely deserved it. Seriously, that woman had been old enough to be _Alfred_'s grandmother!

Just new levels of wrong.

While speaking of levels of wrong, Mr. Lord of Terror need to find new stuffing for his dumb mask. The powder was extremely ineffective. The only thing it'd managed to do was get him covered in a fine mist of the sneeze-causing, white _poof_.

It'd been weird. He'd actually thought that he'd sneezed himself unconscious for a minute there.

He wasn't quite as good as Bruce with the whole no-sleep thing. He was still a growing child after all and hadn't fully adapted to being able to beat up bad guys by night then turn around and function like a normal person.

Bruce knew that if he sent him to school, he'd fall asleep in at least one of his classes. If – rather _when_ he did, one of the teachers or, heaven forbid, the _guidance counselor_ would call him and want to have a meeting to discuss the situation. Bruce _despised_ when those people called him and wasted his precious time. Really, Dick could be pulled from school for a month and still ace his classes.

That, however, was questionable, and no matter how much Dick begged, Bruce was immovable on that. Hooky every now and then was totally different.

So after a late night, or morning, of super-heroing, the day found the Boy Wonder just rolling out of the bed at a quarter past two in the afternoon, a headache pulsing at his temples. Mouth dry, eyes grainy, and head pounding, he scrubbed a hand over his face and wondered if this was what a hangover felt like. If it was, he'd need his shades to protect his eyes from the light.

His hands moved to the front of his pajama top to button it close. After fumbling with it a moment, he looked to see his shirt was on inside-out. He stared at it stupidly for a full minute before giving a mental shrug and picking up the dark glasses from off of the stand next to his bed to put them on.

"Need food," he groaned as he left his bedroom behind.

He trudged through the silent halls, grumbling about the ridiculous largeness of the mansion. Sunlight streamed through the floor to ceiling windows, and he found himself hissing at the bright light. Like a vampire or something.

But oh, wait. Vampires _sparkle_ in sunlight now. _Right_.

He held his arm out in front of him into the light, just to make sure. The skin neither blackened into ash nor sparkled. Laughing at himself, he continued to the kitchen.

Stainless steel and black appliances furnished the room with a smattering of a more traditional style to it. This was wholly Alfred's domain, and he had nothing but the best, save the old, wooden table. The surface was scarred with knicks, stained with wine, and smelled like lemons. Dick just figured it held some kind of sentimental value to it and left it at that.

"Have more than four people ever even lived here at a time?" he wondered aloud, reverting back to his former topic of complaint, as he reached up to get a bowl from the cabinet above.

"Ow, ow!" He hissed as pain shot through his ribs and pulled his arm back down.

Oh, yeah. He did kinda get hit there once or a dozen or so times. He'd gotten a little too used to ignoring the feel of bruised ribs. Note to self: stretching is a bad idea right now.

He briefly debated calling for Alfred but realized how pathetic that would be, asking the man to get him a bowl. Besides that, he wasn't even home. Alfred usually visited friends around this time. He almost sighed before he remembered that would irritate his ribs more and settled for yawning instead, which still hurt anyway, and winced.

Okay. He needed drugs. Because that hurt. He was hungry and in pain.

Man, consciousness sucked so much right now.

A light, barely-there tapping sounded from the hall, and Dick angled his head to listen. He glanced at the clock, and it was too early for Bruce or Alfred to be back. But there was definitely someone there.

Impatient by virtue of youth, Dick crept over the doorway and carefully checked the hall. He didn't see anyone, but that meant very little. He eased out of the kitchen and scanned the area. He continued to look around, even going so far as to investigate the grand foyer. He stopped and rested a hand along the wooden stair rail.

A frown formed on along his brow. He could have sworn that he heard…

A light tap of metal on wood caused him to turn.

"Whoa."

A most _definite _she stood at the top of the stairs, and the light streaming through the window behind her made a very dramatic effect on her defined figure. He recognized her from screen shots from security feeds because he'd been chasing the Fog with Superboy when the others had faced off with her. He'd read over their briefs after talking to them and got the basic idea of her threat level. He'd pored over all the information he could find on her using the Bat-computer.

He'd been a bit obsessive with his research actually. Alfred, in his own dry way, had teased that perhaps Dick had something of a crush on the mysterious assassin. Denial immediately followed that ridiculous accusation. Batman may have a thing for Catwoman, but no way was Robin putting himself through that kind of drama over a girl. Especially one who tried to kill his friends.

But even if he hadn't done all that investigating, the woman in front of him wearing a short, green kimono, black armor, and a freaky, smiling mask just screamed 'Stranger Danger!' at about a thousand decibels.

"Hello, kid," her voice was easy like she was discussing the fair weather with a stranger, "The name's Cheshire. Nothing personal, but I'm here to kill you."

Well, nice to meet you, too then.

He'd have liked to say something flip, maybe quote a little _Alice in Wonderland_ but didn't think that quite fit the role of Dick Grayson. Because civvies didn't get flip-mouth with ladies with blades hidden on her while they had nothing but a pair of sunglasses and inside-out pajamas.

Of course, he wasn't supposed to know about the knives. But there was still some freak in his house. What an annoying situation.

He rolled his eyes behind his dark shades.

How did it go with civilians?

Usually, there would be whimpering, crying, begging…yeah, no way was he going to do that. Oh, wait! Disbelief. He could do that and still keep some dignity.

"Lady," he angled his head down and looked up at her with a cocky smirk, "Is this some kind of joke? Because it's kinda lame."

She didn't even raise her hand, just casually flicked her wrist, and ninja stars hit the wall next to his head. His eyes widened not from fear, but because that was impressive. Which was kind of disappointing. As Robin, this would have been fun. As Dick Grayson, he couldn't actually fight her without that being extremely suspicious.

What a wasted opportunity.

"If you like, feel free to run. I like to play before my kills."

Naturally, he obliged her. He'd been planning on doing that anyway. He may not be able to go full Robin on her, but there was a handy, little Taser in his utility belt that Wayne Tech. heir Dick Grayson could have, no questions asked.

* * *

><p>Dick didn't know how she got in without setting off an alarm or getting spotted by one of the millions of cameras, except he could only think she'd gotten some kind layout of the manor and its security system – which he should remember to update, ASAP. Had she somehow cut off the security system's power? Because <em>no way <em>had she hacked it. But then what happened to the back-up power?

Even so, he seriously doubted Cheshire knew about the 'discrete' passages throughout the place.

He ran through the doors of Bruce's downstairs office headed to the huge grandfather clock but then skidded to a halt.

Her mask had sensors that could track his trail.

Thinking quickly, Dick jumped forward and landed in one of the plush chairs in front of Bruce's desk. Plopping onto his butt, he scooted across the desk, careful not to disturb anything on the surface. From what he'd gathered, the sensors on her mask seemed to detect base traces of body heat, maybe with a chemical asset to it. There was nothing he could do about chemicals or heat, but he slid off of the desk onto the chair on his knees.

Dick pushed off with his hand to the grandfather clock that had been his original destination. He opened the door and jerked the third cable pulley down. The partition behind it slid away along with the main components of the clock to reveal a darkened staircase.

He jumped off the chair into the dim-lighted passage, pushing the chair back towards the desk at the same time. As he quickly descended down to a world shrouded by black, the partition slid closed.

In fact, it closed with a quiet snap just as black-gloved hands eased the office door open and a pair of probing eyes peered into the deserted room from behind a clever mask. The ever-smiling Cheshire stared at one spot near the desk inquisitively, tilting her head to the side.

"Curious."


	2. Hello Kitty

Ok, how many of you actually remember what happened last chapter? I hate when Microsoft marks mistakes as mistakes that really are not mistakes. It's such a snob. Also, I rate most of my stuff T because I'm straight paranoid like that.

* * *

><p>Once in the Batcave, Robin tried to activate the security system and the rest of it, that didn't seem to be working. No matter what access codes he put in, none worked.<p>

'_Access_ _Denied'_

Seated in the plush chair, his fingers flew across the sleek keyboard, furiously trying to work around firewalls and barriers.

'_Access_ _Denied'_

It made no sense. He'd helped _design_ this system. There was no way she had tech that could hack into the Batcave and not only disarm it, but prevent him from getting in.

'_Access_ _Denied'_

…okay. Apparently there was a way.

He held his hands over the keyboard, running codes through his head. As he did, his fingers unconsciously moved to press the keys, without actually touching them.

"Computer, contact Batman now."

'Outgoing calls cannot be made at this time.'

Robin smacked a hand to his forehead. He never thought he'd see the day technology betrayed him. It would be today, of all days. This…was _seriously_ concerting. In a final effort, he typed out a command that would put the systems on a continual loop, in the hopes that eventually there'd be a gap for his message to slip through.

Of course, he wasn't just going to sit on his duff and wait. It gave _her _plenty of time to snoop around and find something she didn't need to. Like, the way down here. After all, he'd found the passage way when he was bored and aimlessly wandering around the mansion. She was actually trying to accomplish something other than alleviating boredom.

Although, she was probably a sadist and this probably _was _a way to alleviate boredom.

He shook his head and spun the chair around, eyes flitting about the massive headquarters. He wasn't getting any back-up. He'd just have to deal with it himself. Easier said than done. Normally, it wouldn't be, however, he was still recovering from last night's little trouble, and that would make this difficult.

The Batcave, as their headquarters, was a veritable armory of all sorts of neutralizing, evasive, pain-causing gadgets. However, as he was supposed to be just some scared, little, rich kid, he couldn't really pull out the birdarangs and go upside the assassin's head. That limited the toys he could use to the Tasers. Of course, that would only be if he took the fight to her, which would be best.

Man. This was just so freakishly annoying. Like a dream or something. A really frustrating, annoying dream.

With an aggravated sigh, Robin pushed himself out of the chair to go retrieve some gear, and some more typical but resilient restraints. His bare feet padded softly against the cool stone floor, and he cast a forlorn sigh at his Robin uniform, hanging neatly in its place. If only, but the Robin suddenly popping out to face the intruder would be way too suspicious.

Suddenly, he stopped stock-still. Looking at his uniform, he saw something _off_ about it. Behind the glass case, the red and black costume was worn by its usual mannequin. The mask, belt, cape, everything was in its place. Robin couldn't quite say what it was about it, but as he pulled the glass door open, it almost looked…_it was breathing. _There seemed to be a steady rise and fall to the chest plate, as if there was a body with lungs inside the costume.

He felt his eyes go wide then narrow suspiciously. That was ridiculous and impossible. Though a bit unnerving. To prove it was nothing but a trick of his eyes and the lighting, Robin reached a hand to touch it. Before his hand quite brushed the material, the mannequin's hand grabbed his wrist.

Dumbfounded and amazed, Robin could only stare with eyes wide behind his shades as the mannequin held up its other hand and shook it at him, like it was scolding him. It then let go of his wrist and nudged his gaping-mouthed, mind-numbed self away from its case and shut the door.

After a long moment, the Boy Wonder stiffly walked away from the case, casting a wary glance to the Batman uniform. With one last look to his obviously possessed uniform, he saw the thing send him a jaunty salute.

He turned away again with a jerky nod. _Obviously_, that old granny had hit a lot harder than he thought.

* * *

><p>From somewhere above his head, the quiet whir of hydraulics echoed lightly in a familiar stairwell. Without a whisper, the Alice in Wonderland themed assassin crept down the stairwell.<p>

Her gloved fingers trailed along the walls as she walked down, down, down the curving staircase. As she rounded the final bend, finally at the bottom, her breath hitched. Her eyes drank in the sight before her: a humongous cave lit from somewhere high above, one of the biggest computers she'd ever seen, a Tyrannosaurus Rex skeleton, the second biggest penny she'd ever seen, and a…

There was the car. _The_ car. Either Bruce Wayne was a total _nerd_ or that was _the _Batmobile. And if it was, her job just became _so _much better.

A flicker of movement, and her gaze zeroed in on her first target, Dick Grayson – _Robin – _over by what appeared to be rows upon rows of specialized Bat-weapons. His back was to her as he looped a belt over his shoulder and another around his waist. He didn't seem to know she was there.

She couldn't have that now, could she?

With more effort than a casual flick, Cheshire threw no less than four ninja stars his way. They sailed toward the boy, lightly whipping the air with a faint rush. He didn't turn, merely _moved_ and dodged each one. Twirling to face her from his final spin, he took a crouched stance.

She tilted her head and waved, "Hello again."

He responded not with words, but a pair of birdarangs. She assumed the red and yellow pieces of flying metal were his very own personal ones. How cute.

Taking her sai in hand once again, she held them ready to deflect the projectiles. Just as the first was inches away from her, she flicked it away with the tip of her blade.

Then the world exploded white.

Well…at least he didn't have to hold back.

Robin used the distraction of the flash grenade to find cover. The net he'd thrown her way probably would only buy him just a few more seconds. Just as he ducked behind one of the stone pillars, he heard the rip of the net and a moment later, the screech of metal against metal. As he ghosted around her to her opposite side, he recognized the sound.

She. Was. Scratching. The Batmobile.

Try to kill him, fine. Attack him in his own house, sure. But to attack a defenseless car like that…that was just mean-spirited! Did that woman not realize that was going to be _his_ one day? That he would be allowed to drive that beautiful piece of top-of-the-line, custom-engineered _machine_?

It was _so_ personal now.

In a reckless move that Batman would have had him run hours of sims for making, Robin jumped from behind his cover, Taser charged and ready. One problem: she was gone. Nowhere in sight.

Which made no sense. The sound of the vandalism still echoed through the cave, and she'd vanished without a trace. Now he'd exposed himself, though he quickly tried to recover from that, and lost his opponent. In his home environment, he should have the advantage, but it seemed like the assassin had slithered into some little crevice he'd never even discovered.

Once he'd backed off into the shadows, he tried to run a strategy through. Basically, evade and subdue if possible. He was good, true, but from what he'd seen of the security feed of her fights with Kaldur, she might be better. He'd have to play this one smart.

Jumping out there like that had been dumb. She'd been baiting him and he'd taken it. He'd given her his mind-set, and if she was as good as he thought, she'd try to use that. His eyes quickly scanned for any trace of her, his ears tuned for any noise that didn't belong.

A faint hint of something almost sweet teased his nose, and instinctively, he dove forward, just avoiding sai being plunged into his head. Scrambling to his feet, the adrenaline pumping through him now completely overrode any pain that would have caused his bruised ribs.

"We having fun yet, kid?" the assassin teased.

Cheshire wasted no time waiting for him to respond and charged forward once again. From seemingly nowhere, Robin pulled his escrima sticks out and in front of him to block her attack. She kept a steady offense, and he couldn't help but feel like she was toying with him.

He hated not being taken seriously.

When an opening presented itself, slim though it was, he took it, jabbing her in the shoulder with one and swinging the other in an uppercut. The hit caught her under the chin, and she used the momentum to flip back. Faster than he expected, she landed and kicked out. Robin arched back even as a blade peeked from out of her boot. He sucked in a quick breath as the tip grazed across his unprotected belly.

He could tell it wasn't a deep cut, but that didn't matter if that knife was poisoned too. Considering who he was fighting, that was most likely the case.

She continued with the spin, twirling away from him and out of his immediate attack range. He hesitated only a second, not wanting to make this a pursuit and waste his energy, but letting her out of his sight was a _bad_ move.

Those two hits, she seemed to consider freebies. He twisted around her blade and had to retreat before he could move to attack. He feinted, but she never fell for it. He jumped over her once and received a firm kick to the backside and danced around her advances. She constantly weaved out of his view around the pillars and equipment, and he used the environment to his advantage as well. Somehow, probably that stupid mask, she always caught him first.

The adrenaline rush was numbing some of his injuries, but the old bruises and the new ones getting an extra layer added to them. _Those_, he felt.

This was just suckish. He could feel himself slowing down here and there. All this excitements really got the blood pumping. Really got that poison flowing.

She flipped away from his next strike and backed off for a moment, watching him try not to pant for breath. Robin held himself in a defensive position, blue eyes glaring. His shades had been knocked from his face a few hits ago.

"Little brats like you usually annoy me," she'd said, "You got designer shades just to hide your face. There is no sun in here, you know," her voice was entirely too at ease, too melodic.

In a way, her voice was coaxing, even gentle. But he heard the sadism laced with her honey tone and knew she _would _kill him. Probably enjoy it too.

The Joker, Scarecrow, Dent, Black Canary, this psycho lady…Why did he always have to deal with such sadists all of the time?

"I imagined you'd be more talkative than this. Then again, that poison tends to spread to the vocal chords after a while."

That explained a lot. Like why his throat felt numb and swallowing was a little difficult. He wondered just how far the poison was going to spread. It could be a problem if it went to his diaphragm, heart, or attack his spinal cord. Or his arms. Basically, anywhere was bad. It was just dependent on what level of bad.

This so qualified as a _dis_astrous day.

"And," she continued, "you never say hey when I find you. It's probably because you think you're cooler than me, right?" her voice quieted.

She was gone. She was simply, suddenly gone. He hadn't blinked, she hadn't moved; she merely wasn't there anymore. Did his eyes not perceive everything that was going on, or was that just a trick?

Just as quick as she'd disappeared, she was lunging at him from the right. Robin evaded by diving forward and tossing smoke bombs at her feet. He threw two birdarangs toward the computer console, and it sparked before the lights went out. That left the cave washed in grey tones and more shadows.

This wasn't a problem for him at all. He could navigate the place blind-folded, had done so in the past. He could only hope this gave him an advantage. That mask though – that stupid mask that he was so going to make a prototype of his own if he survived this – probably gave his assailant more than a little assistance.

He didn't have time for thinking on it though. He needed to move, get away from her. Maybe he could get to his R-cycle and get to Wayne Tech. All he needed was forty-five seconds away from her, and he was home-free.

Of course, it didn't go that way. With as much stealth as he could, Robin crept toward his chance of escape. His feet made the slightest noise as he made his way along the floor, and he grit his teeth at the sound. He was four feet away from the bike when he felt a solid kick to his bruised side that sent him skidding across the floor and gasping for breath.

"You should see the way that you look," she lowered her voice to an amused whisper, "when your steps make that much noise. This place has some great acoustics."

Okay, now she was getting ridiculously annoying with this whole game. He halfway wished she'd just _get it over with already_!

Except he'd end up dead. But death couldn't possibly be as annoying as this!

"I have a psycho stalker lady with poisoned knives chasing me," he bit out, exasperation edging his tone. "How should I look?"

"Hm," she tilted her head curiously, "well in that case, very appropriate expression then."

Suddenly, a soft, sweet odor drifted lightly through the air. Like a cucumber melon or something, but sweeter. It was familiar for some reason.

_Coconut_, he thought. _It smelled like coconut._

Wow. If there was ever a time to observe something so useless, this had to take the cake.

She reached down to lift him up from the floor and pin him against the wall. He bit back a groan as the movement irritated his ribs and various other wounds. A sharp pain shot through his chest, somewhere from near his heart. His breath came in quick huffs through his nose and the smell became stronger. He realized it came from her.

He suddenly hated coconut beyond all comprehension and had a compelling desire to burn every tree that bore its hideous fruits out of existence.

But he was getting ahead of himself. He had to survive in order to do that.

She held a sai with her fingers wrapped around the handle so that the blades seemed to project from between her knuckles.

"Wait! Hold on, lady! Wait!"

The sai was poised just over his neck. Her head tilted, and curiosity glinted in those eyes.

"Final words then?"

"I…just need to know. Are you Lori? Because if you are, Bruce is really sorry about breaking up with you and if you drop this whole thing…"

"Sorry, but no," he could practically hear her smile. "I really hope your old man is as entertaining as you."

He stared right at her and grinned.

"You have _no _idea."

There was the sound of metal flying through the air a moment before Cheshire _hissed_ and dropped her sai. With stunning speed, she turned with her back to the wall, jerked Dick in front of her, and pulled another sai from somewhere. The tip dug softly into the skin on his throat, and he angled his head up to avoid it.

"Was it just me, or did those look like little bats?" she mused aloud.

She sounded like she was about to laugh. She just lost one of her blades to batarangs and she finds it funny. Great. She was probably looking forward to facing Batman. Well, he was okay with that. Because Bruce was going to hand her butt to her on a silver platter after he got a look at his bruises. Actually, by this time, he probably already had.

Ow! Ow, grinning hurt! Don't do that.

Of course, Bruce couldn't get to her without him getting an artery – her grip on the sai shifted and– oh, oh, that's the jugular! -…sliced open.

"Batman? You're interrupting my fun, y'know. Gimme a minute, and then I'm all yours."

There was no response, not a sound out of the Bat. If there had been, the minute noise wouldn't have been heard over the pounding in his ears. Dick made an effort to calm himself and extend his senses to spot some kind of tell from his mentor, signaling what he should do.

He waited and watched, tensed and ready. She heard it when he did, a faint, unrecognizable sound. A stiff material slid across the ground, almost like sand paper on stone, yet fainter. The sound became steadily louder, and soon a figure loomed in front of them.

Behind him, he felt Cheshire's good humor slip away. Him? He just stopped breathing.

It had red eyes. Huge ears, gaping jaws and sharp teeth. Bowed forward on its forelegs, it had claws for fingers, thin webbing in between each one. Translucent ebony ran along the backs of its hands to its massive back, rippled with muscle. From its back, two black, massive wings arced upward and blended into the darkness of the cave.

"Bruce?"

Its ears twitched in their direction, and it opened its mouth wider. A screech that rivaled Black Canary's cry ripped out of its throat. Robin started to shake and wanted to run. But not away. He wanted to run _to _it. Because despite its fearsome appearance, he felt like he _knew _this creature. It wouldn't hurt him.

Cheshire was a whole other matter. He could almost feel sorry for her.

Then everything slowed down.

He felt the blade lance across his neck and his body be thrown aside to the floor. As the poison took full effect, his arms wouldn't obey his command to raise toward his neck, and his hands only twitched around empty air. Another feral scream rent the air, and there was a rush of wind as a shadow passed above him.

Robin was aware that he was bleeding out and could do nothing about it. As the blood flowed from his throat, the Batman had turned his attention on the Cheshire. The sounds of that battle were indescribably horrific. It would take little time before it was over.

Unfortunately, he didn't think he could wait that long.

Because in a moment, his world ran red.

* * *

><p>AN: I swear on Ted Dekker, I make this stuff up as I go along.

The bat thing is why this wasn't posted sooner. Because it's just so dang weird.

One more chapter and then it's done.

The fight scene: those are always a killer. Most people aren't able to really _get_ it right. I've only seen a few who are just really booming-esque. I know I'm not there, but I would really appreciate some honest criticism on that portion especially.

This…was entirely odd to write. Entirely.


	3. Sweet Dreams

There was an echo here. Not that he knew where here he was. It was comfortable though.

It echoed again, just now and again like a metronome. It was a soft beeping. Every few seconds, the high blip would nudge him into consciousness, bit by bit. He didn't need to open his eyes to know he was in the infirmary and hooked up to a heart monitor.

Robin opened his eyes languidly, although a part of him felt he should be moving with more urgency. He couldn't remember why though. Above his head, he saw the metal plated ceiling and low lights from where he lay on a white-sheeted bed. He was right; infirmary it was. Well, he certainly ached enough to warrant a visit here.

Glancing about with bleary eyes, Robin saw a completely human Batman sitting in a chair near his bed. He was leaned forward, elbows on his knees, head in his hands. The man looked tired. He probably hadn't slept again. Then Robin remembered.

"Bruce!" the boy all but yelled, all signs of sleep gone. The billionaire's head jerked up to meet the wild gaze of his ward. Dick sat up, ignoring the slight vertigo the movement caused, and looked about the room again. The sudden motion made the multiple IVs he was hooked up to twist and bite into his skin, but he hardly noticed the discomfort.

"Where is she? Did you see her face? How are you human again? That was so _cool _how you did that!" Dick spoke rapid fire, almost fast enough to make a Flash jealous.

With the cowl pushed back, it allowed Dick full view of Bruce's look of mild concern. The man merely shook his head once, saying,

"The hallucinogens are taking longer to wear off than I thought."

"What? Oh, yeah. Cheshire coats her weapons with poisons," Robin muttered absently. "So where is she? You didn't eat her, did you?"

After staring at the teen and reminding himself that the boy was _drugged_, he briefly touched the his shoulder.

"Cheshire was never here," he responded, standing and walking towards the machines Robin was hooked up to.

He said that as if that'd explain everything. Sometimes, Robin wondered if the man did that because he expected everyone to play detective all of the time, or he just forgot everyone didn't. Or if he was just a bastard like that.

"But…she was. I fought her. She came here to kill me and used her mask to track me to the Batcave – by the way, we should look into infrared tech for our masks. Then my Robin uniform was alive! And she kept pulling all these ninja stars out of _everywhere_! I mean, I don't know just where she could have possibly hidden them all. Her kimono's so –"

"Robin."

One word, laced with the slightest irritation and worry, shut down his rambling.

"Do you remember fighting Crane?" Batman asked.

Robin nodded, feeling wariness rise.

"After you broke his nose," Robin couldn't help but smirk _a little bit_, "his mask let out a cloud of his nerve toxin. The kind that he used on the hostages and the one he stored in his mask were two different types. You breathed it in then passed out. You've been unconscious fifty-seven hours."

He stared at his mentor in disbelief before objecting with an articulate,

"What the f – "

Bruce sent his charge a hard glare, changing his mind about his choice of words.

"F- feathered…bikini…?" he finished lamely then frowned, "So it was all a dream?"

It'd seemed so real though. He could still _feel_ her boot print on his backside. A hand went to his throat, feeling smooth, unwounded skin.

"A drug-induced, nerve-targeting hallucination would be more apt. You actually got up and started messing with the computer's security system."

He snapped his fingers.

"Speaking of that, we need to make some serious changes. I was thinking about –"

"Resting," Bruce cut in.

No fair! Foul! Birdy!

Slow. Your. Roll.

"You just said I've been out two days!"

"Unconscious and feverish from a near fatal drug-overdose is not resting."

Robin crossed his arms over his bare-chest, glanced down, and realized he was still in his uniform pants. With his gaze still downward, and effectively pouting, he asked,

"Near fatal?"

"Your vitals skyrocketed almost constantly. The gas Crane used was a different chemical from what he'd used previously, and a new counter-toxin had to me made. You fought through, and you still need to rest from it."

Robin just refrained from rolling his eyes. He needed to sleep, okay, he got it the first time.

"Can I at least sleep in my room?"

"I'll take you up in a minute," Bruce said, already walking towards the door.

"But I d–"

Another of those looks. Something between 'Don't-test-me-because-I-will-sedate-you' and 'Go-ahead-make-my-day'. Robin glared a moment with a look that said 'When-you're-old-and-decrepit-I'm-totally-going-to-remember-this' and flopped back on the bed petulantly. Then he hid the wince from the pain that had caused.

Bruce continued to walk out and didn't breathe a sigh of relief until the door closed behind him. Dick waited until Bruce's foots-steps had faded before murmuring low,

"Mother hen."

In little time, the boy's eyes had closed, only to rest them, he told himself. His mind went over the attack, the one that didn't happen. Even now, with Bruce's assurance, it was hard to believe. It'd felt so real.

Soon, he found his mind floating in between that state of waking and sleeping and led his body take him whichever way it willed. Just before he was completely gone, a faint odor crept through his senses.

Faintly, he thought it might be coconut.

_Curiouser…_

* * *

><p>AN:

As far as the challenge goes, I give myself a C, but then I don't like looking at that letter without my name following it or a B because it makes me feel inadequate so I'll up it to an A- and because that's just stupid so I might as well put A+! Yay me! (I kid;)


End file.
